Super Ben
by Aeshna Lacrymosa
Summary: When Benjamin Clawhauser was a teenage cub, he was a vigilante in Sahara Square. But making a difference wasn't easy for a chubby cheetah wearing a blanket for a cape. This is a reference to a subplot in the Brooklyn Nine-Nine episode "Full Boyle."


Super Ben

Scourge of Zootopias Underworld

Officer Benjamin Clawhauser was busying himself with cleaning up his station at the end of his shift. His trash bin was now full of paper towels soaked with disinfectant and dotted with sprinkles and fudge and crumbs of various sweet snacks. He was just about ready to go as his coworkers were gathering at the lobby at the end of the day.

"Hey, Ben, great job working with us at the drug case today," said Fangmeyer, the tigress.

"Yeah, I saw Hopps and Wilde bringing in the perps earlier," said Clawhauser, grinning.

"It was the wolves that found them," said Wilde.

The four wolves smiled and mumbled appreciatively at their much smaller coworker.

"Yeah, but you led me on that chase against the marmot perps!" said Hopps, bouncing and beaming at Wilde.

"The squad is going out for drinks. We'd be happy for you to come with us," said Chief Bogo, who had just put on his coat.

Clawhauser's smile turned even brighter. "Okay, let's go!" he said, leaping over his desk with surprising grace coming from an obese cheetah. His coworkers cheered as they made their way out of the precinct.

It was a beautiful spring evening. The whole squad had been working on a marijuana case for that whole week. The dealers turned out to be marmots living under Tundratown. Only Wilde and Hopps were the ones that were small enough to chase after the perps in the tunnels underground after the wolves had located them by scent.

The best thing about these post-arrest nights out was that they weren't actually allowed to talk about their cases in public, so it was a great way to wind down after a stressful day. Shaggy's Bar was owned by Shaggy Reed, a jackal, who happily served the Precinct One cops as he used to do. He was familiar with some of the older officers' usual orders. Judy, who was unfamiliar with cocktails, chose a different beverage each time.

"Put your feet up, Hopps. You must be exhausted," said Clawhauser, helping his smallest coworker to an upholstered medium-size chair beside him.

"I'll be alright," said the rabbit, who smiled appreciatively and made room for Nick to sit beside her. "You were pretty busy, too—analyzing past cases, cleaning up our evidence, working between us and Forensics—if it were me, I might collapse."

"That's why I keep my doughnuts handy," said Clawhauser.

"Amen to that," said Wilde.

"Group selfie!" called Pennington, who raised her phone in the air with her trunk. The squad quickly huddled together and cheered in time for the elephant to take the picture. "I'll tag you all," she promised as she posted the picture at once.

Judy felt her own phone vibrating moments later. She tapped the Like button, genuinely pleased with Francine's shot. Out of curiosity, she tapped Clawhauser's name and was redirected to his profile, where he posted various Gazelle related news and media alongside a few photographs and updates from his loved ones. A Throwback Thursday photo caught her eye—a juvenile Benjamin Clawhauser—significantly thinner than he was now but still having both baby fat and kitten fuzz on his head and neck—was wearing a sunshine yellow T-shirt with the letters SB with blue tape, red tights, and gray boxers over it.

Judy burst into laughter. "Hey, Ben, I've just seen this picture you posted yesterday. Is this really you?" she asked, tapping Clawhauser's arm and showing him the photo.

Clawhauser squealed and laughed. "Oh, that was me in high school," he said. "I was fourteen years old, and I always wanted to be a superhero like Krypto the Superdog. Obviously, I'm not an alien dog with superpowers, but I easily saw myself making a difference, taking down the bad guys, helping the police. So I dressed up the best I could and perched myself on top of buildings looking out for suspicious activity."

"That's amazing! That sounds really dangerous," said the rabbit, her violet eyes shining.

"In retrospect, I realize it really was dangerous, even for a young predator. But I did impress the detectives at the local precinct," said Clawhauser, who was just as excited as Hopps. "But because I was a cub who's way over his head at the time, it wasn't easy to be taken seriously at first."

Fifteen Years Ago

A baby blue blanket billowed behind a young and chubby cheetah as the makeshift cape narrowly avoided getting snagged between the closing elevator doors of Precinct Nine in Sahara Square. He approached a beautiful arui ewe that was eyeing him. "Excuse me," said young Benjamin, "are you a detective?"

"Who's asking?" the ewe, her eyes looking him up and down.

"I'm Super Ben, scourge of the Sahara Square underworld, and I need to talk to an officer of the law," he said with fervor.

The ewe was clearly not impressed. "I'm busy right now working on this…" she paused for a thought, "excuse. I think Santiago's free." She indicated the female ibex at her desk, trying uselessly to hide from him behind a white paper folder.

Benjamin felt his passion dwindling, but he approached the ibex. Resuming his firm posture, he greeted the detective. "Hi," he said to her. "I'm Super Ben, and I have a crime to report."

"Oh, gosh," the ibex sighed as she put down the folder, "I'm so sorry. I literally just retired."

Benjamin's jaw dropped in astonishment. She was clearly young, probably in her late 20s to early 30s like the arui, with a shiny coat, bright eyes, and polished horns. "This is my retirement cake," she said, picking up a half-eaten muffin and biting through it. To further cement her unconvincing ruse, she stood and addressed the room. "Thanks, you guys. I'm gonna miss this place."

"Why aren't you guys taking me seriously?" Benjamin asked with a grimace.

"Your cape and your tights," said the ibex defeatedly, "and your name is Super Ben, and I can kind of see your penis. It's all just a rich tapestry." Benjamin looked down at himself. She was right about his sheath poking through his boxers.

"Well, I'm a citizen. I'm from this neighborhood," said Benjamin, his patience gone. "So the only reason I'm wearing this costume is so when I'm fighting crime to help you guys, mammals will respect my authority!"

"How is that working out for you?" asked the arui sarcastically. The ibex stifled a laugh.

"Detectives," said the voice of a male rhino beside Benjamin, "when a citizen comes in off the street, it is ZPD policy to take a statement."

The arui waved at Benjamin and his costume. "This isn't enough of a statement?"

With a disappointed huff, the rhinoceros turned Benjamin around. "Come with me, Super Ben," he said, leading him to a desk shared by a pair of elderly male pigs. "I'm Sergeant Jeffords, and I apologize for Detectives Diaz and Santiago. I'll talk to them later. These are Detectives Hitchcock and Scully. They handle the paperwork around here; they can take your statement."

Benjamin could still feel Sergeant Jeffords' eyes on him even as he sat beside Hitchcock and Scully's desk, which smelled of an assortment of sweet and salty snacks, most notably pies and pizzas. The chairs, the table, and the computers looked sticky with grease. But the pigs accepted the cheetah's presence with mild interest.

Benjamin felt his pride rising again as he recounted suspicious transactions happening near the Tundra Gate and Heat Street Stations of the ZTA. He gave them an SD card containing photos taken over the course of the last six months. Afterwards, he thanked the detectives and went home.

Two days later, he was called back to the precinct. A female voice told him he was needed back at the detectives' office to ID a suspect. When he arrived, Detective Santiago was waving at him. "Super Ben, over here. Thanks for coming."

He groaned when he saw it was indeed Diaz and Santiago looking at him expectantly. "Great. You two?" he said wearily. "If you guys wanna make fun of me, you can just come to Pita Paradise like everyone else does."

"We need your help," said Santiago in a kind voice he hadn't heard the first time he had met her.

"Why? What happened to Scully and Hitchcock?"

"They're busy," said Diaz, "cleaning Hitchcock's ear." Santiago pointed at the two pigs. Scully was wearing his reading classes while holding a flashlight over Hitchcock's ear. Hitchcock was sitting patiently while his friend cleaned out his ear with a firm cotton swab.

Santiago handed Benjamin a folder with the ZPD logo on it. "Did you witness any of these males selling narcotics?" she asked.

Benjamin excitedly opened the file. "This is so official!" he exclaimed. Finally he was making a real impact on helping the community. He recognized the face of a lion with a shiny mane. "Yeah. This guy, number three," he said, grinning as he showed them the photo.

"That's the mope we brought in," Diaz told Santiago. Both females looked very pleased.

"Yeah. Okay. We're gonna need to take your statement. Spare no detail," Santiago said.

"Really?" said Benjamin. "Yeah, alright! I was driving around my neighborhood, in the Benmobile, which is my bike. Anyway, I saw him coming out of an old apartment building with a lioness that was clearly a hooker. But I thought it was strange when the lioness handed him money instead of him paying her. So I followed him to an alley near the train tracks where he met with a leopard who handed him a small leather suitcase."

Present Day

"I spent the rest of that afternoon ID'ing more perps and adding detail to old reports," said Clawhauser. "Diaz and Santiago had been working on that drug case for three months by that time."

"I'm suddenly glad I wasn't dealing at that time," said Wilde, sipping on a Yellow Bird.

Hopps elbowed him in playful exasperation. "I'm wondering though, what inspired you to pursue that specific case?" she asked Clawhauser while Wilde pinched her cheek. "It sounds like you might know a lot about drug trafficking at that age."

"Oh, I do," said Clawhauser solemnly. "There was a dealer that would hang around at my high school. I grew up in a poor neighborhood in Sahara Square where the predators live in a trailer park. It was a different time from now, so most cops were predators that typically let the prey civilians fend for themselves, especially in a neighborhood like that. So many of my mostly prey classmates were lured into gangs and drug trafficking for extra cash. So there was a lot of gang-related violence at my neighborhood too. I became tired of it. I felt inside me that I could be better than that, that I could make things better for my peers. So when I became Super Ben—not the most creative superhero name, I know—I said to myself I didn't want to be like those cops who didn't care. So I thought if I become a vigilante, I could make a difference. Which I did, but after working with Diaz and Santiago, I learned that certain precincts just have a lot on their plate and police work didn't typically involve apprehending criminals on sight. They later recruited me to the junior police program, which definitely helped me get into the academy after college."

"Buddy, it's stories like yours that keep convincing me I made the right choice in joining the force," said Nick.

Judy stood on the table and raised her glass. "To making a difference!"

"To making a difference!" their brothers and sisters chorused and cheered for sharing their dream with one another.


End file.
